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When you do what I do for a living, which largely involves sitting in a big chair and writing on a computer, there are many positives. Primary amongst them is the fact that your commute to work is about 10 steps from the bed. You get to keep your own timetable, can go wandering around the park in the afternoon, and work whilst naked if the mood takes you (it rarely does) As I've never had a waged job and have always worked for myself for the past 35 years, I'm totally used to being self-motivated and getting on with work.
But this week one of the big downsides happened. I got ill. I almost never get ill. But this is bronchitis and I've a cough like a psychotic goat that would give one on Lemmy's bass bins a run for its money in terms of volume. On top of this I'm sweating and shivering and feel weak as a kitten - though I always thought for their size, kittens seemed quite strong.
I mean look at me, I'm wrecked. I'm drinking hot ginger tea, for god's sake. No good can come of that. OK it's laced with whisky and Ibuprofen and a range of other narcotics and herbs which are designed, if not to cure you, then make you stop feeling so much pain. Result!
Everyone gets ill from time to time andI have to plough on regardless like a band that gets the flu on the 10th date of a 100 date tour of North America. There's no going back, you just have to get on with it and try to play through the pain.
Somehow we've still managed to create a new Limited Edition t-shirt - the excellent West Bruce and Laing, Live n Kickin' album and we've also released 10 more 'missing classics' that haven't been on DJTees in a long, long time. Do check those out.
You might also like to read my latest in the history of rock festivals about Wisconsin's Woodstock. I wrote it on strong medicine.
Seem it's amazing what you can do even when you're sick as dog and possibly hallucinating due to over-consumption of purely medicinal whisky.
Till next week. Rock on